Last night, I was busy packing my bags for another weekend in the Hamptons. This time, Ashley and I will not be staying with her parentals, since I don't think they'd be down with us bringing our boy toys (that would be Peter and Fedora Guy) with us. Instead, we're going to shack up with a friend of the guys'.

Isn't it every girl's fantasy to have her best friend date the best friend of the guy she's dating? Just me? Personally, I love it. I only wish Fedora Guy was slightly less of a show off-y douche bag, but he is starting to grow on me.

Just as I'd folded my last pair of pastel colored jeans, my doorbell rang. First of all, I didn't even know I had a doorbell, since everyone usually knocks. Second of all, as it was 9 something on a school night and I hadn't ordered pizza nor was I expecting company, I immediately leapt to the conclusion that there was a rapist standing outside my door. So I grabbed my cell, called my mom, and found a butcher knife in my kitchen.

Jen looked down and started vigorously nodding her head. Her eyes welled up again and tears spilled down her cheeks. "I came home from," hiccup, "a trip early and," another hiccup, "he, he was with someone else!" Jen buried her head in her lap, sobbing, her tall body collapsing in on itself.

"Oh my god, Jen!" I sat down next to her and rubbed her back. "It's okay, you're going to be okay." For the first time, I noticed she wasn't wearing her engagement ring.

"Where is your ring?"

Jen sat up, and through her tears, she actually smiled. "I threw it at him."

"That's awesome."

Jen shook her head. "That's not even the best part. It bounced off his head, rolled on the floor, and fell into the grate!"

"Stop!"

"And it's not insured, he was on his knees freaking out when I stormed out."

I put my hand over my mouth, the image of Andrew literally watching thousands of dollars going down a drain made me giddy. Karma is a turbo bitch. "I love you," I said, laughing.

"Can I spend the night here? I cannot go back to that apartment."

"Of course you can." I know, I know. I'm kind of a push over. But Jen had nowhere else to go, and I was just so happy she had finally caught a glimpse of Andrew's true colors that I couldn't refuse her.

I found a pair of pajamas for Jen—my boxer shorts literally looked like a European man's speedo on her tall ass body—and even managed to find a toothbrush for her.

"Oh, are you going somewhere?" Jen asked, looking at my packed suitcase on the floor.

"Oh," Jen looked crestfallen as she climbed into my bed. "Maybe I'll just go home this weekend then." She curled up into a ball and shut her eyes.

Ugh. I suddenly felt beyond guilty, even though I knew I had nothing to feel guilty about—especially because Jen was the one to cut me out of her life over the last few years. Still, I'm a firm believer that friendships should always come first.

What do you guys think? Should I honor the whole bros before hos thing (invert that, obviously) and stick around the city for Jen's sake?